day 19, Brian Eno - Here Come The Warm Jets

Stars: 3.75
Favorite Song: Baby’s on Fire
Live: $31

Here Come the Warm Jets was the first rock-and-roll Brian Eno album I’ve heard. I’ve kicked around a couple “atmospheric” albums of his as well as the David Byrne collaboration that came out a few years ago, but he never struck me as a guitar solo kinda guy. As it turns out, Brian Eno (or at least the guitarists he rolls with) rips it with the best of them.

Here Come the Warm Jets is, no question, a rock-and-roll album. It does, however, cover many bases. It is part nerdy freak-out with tracks like “Dead Finks Don’t Talk,” part Eric Clapton with “Needles in the Camel’s Eye,” part Primus with “Baby’s on Fire,” and part atmospheric rock with “Here Come the Warm Jets.” Put it together and you have an exciting album with a lot of idiosyncrasies to keep you on your toes.

My two favorite tracks on Here Come the Warm Jets have nothing to do with each other musically. “Cindy Tells Me” may be a huge hit on your classic pop/rock station, while it would be a stretch for “Baby’s on Fire” to even make it on your hard rock/alternative station. “Cindy Tells Me” trots along with clinky pianos, tight guitars and light drums like an early Beatles song. “Baby’s on Fire” is on a completely different page—more like a different book. Vocally, it is much harsher, with a raspy whining that is almost frightening. Lyrically, too, it is intense. “Baby’s on fire, better throw her in the water. Look at her laughing, like a heifer to the slaughter.” But most intense of all is the four minute guitar solo played by Robert Fripp of King Crimson. It pounces all over the simple two chord demonic oscillation and kicks dirt it its face. Note for note, it fights dirty, but the tone is so well soaked in overdrive, reverb and other effects that you notice how obviously well crafted it is.

The only reason this album didn’t get four or five stars is because I can’t seem to pin Here Come the Warm Jets down. Being so all over the place with styles, effects and whatnot, I would sometimes get lost. Listening back, I find myself skipping a lot of tracks then going back to them later. Also, I find “Blank Frank” and “Dead Finks Don’t Talk” virtually unlistenable, but the beautiful tag-team holding up the rear, “Some of Them are Old” and “Here Come the Warm Jets” are enough to force me to get through them.